


It's Not Paranoia if They're Really Out to Get You

by VeteranKlaus



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Anxiety, Dependency, Depression, Gang Stalking, Gaslighting, Hurt/Comfort, Isolation, M/M, Manipulation, Mental Breakdown, Mental Instability, Panic Attacks, Paranoia, Scratching, Stalking, Therapist Erwin, Therapy, Vomit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-10-21 18:38:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17647823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeteranKlaus/pseuds/VeteranKlaus
Summary: Maybe it's the lack of sleep and the caffeine getting to him, or maybe his anxiety's just getting worse. Or maybe he's not wrong.Hange thinks he's stressed, or that maybe some trauma from his childhood is playing up again, worsening his anxiety and his paranoia. He should talk to someone, she says. But it's not his fault that everyone holds their phones with their camera turned towards him - all the time - or that he sees the same people in his path everyday, that people go out of their way to get into his, that they're documenting everything, that together twenty, thirty, fifty - a hundred, everyone in the city - is out to get him. Hange probably is, too.Still, just to test what would happen if he takes the offer for 'talking to someone' up - would they have people there? Other patients? His therapist?Erwin Smith is nothing short of suspicious and doesn't even try to hide it, but that just makes it so real. He's real, and not out to get him. Hopefully.





	1. One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic centres around the idea of gang-stalking; Gang stalking is simply a form of community mobbing and organised stalking combined. Just like you have workplace mobbing, and online mobbing, which are both fully recognised as legitimate, this is the community form.   
> Gang stalking is organised harassment at it's best. It the targeting of an individual for revenge, jealousy, sport, or to keep them quite, etc. 
> 
> It's organised, widespread, and growing. Some describe this form of harassment as, "A psychological attack that can completely destroy a persons life, while leaving little or no evidence to incriminate the perpetrators." 
> 
> The goal is to sensitize the target to a stimuli, isolate the target, make them destitute. The secondary goals seem to be to make the target homeless, jobless, give them a breakdown, and the primary goals seems to be to drive the target to suicide. 
> 
> The surprising thing is that gang stalkers can be found in every level of society. There is no real age barrier, gender barrier, and a variety of races do participate. In almost every occupation in society you can find people who are going along with this. 
> 
> Gang stalking for many is seen as a game, a sport to be played with another individuals life. Many do not understand or care that the end consequence of this game is to destroy a person.
> 
> Although I most likely won't be writing anything graphic, I'll put any warnings in the notes just in case. It'll mostly be centred around Levi with therapy.

He notices it over a span of a few weeks. It’s nothing much, really, but just enough for him to realise that there’s a pattern in his life that doesn’t welcome him.

Every morning – or, most mornings anyway – Levi would walk to the bakery on his way to work. Always, he encounters the same people on the streets. A blonde woman always on her phone. She always turns her head at the right angle so her phone camera points right at him. There’s a group of kids that play basketball in the morning and always end up getting in his way just to slow him down, make him linger. The local drug addicts on the corner of the street look casual, casual enough that he wouldn’t think about seeing them, which is exactly why they were hired to watch him. A man exits a costa with nothing (why nothing? Why go into a coffee shop with no plan to buy something? You can’t browse in a coffee shop) and purposefully bumps into him.

It’s always the same, and he’s only noticing it now.

He buys a diary and begins to log every little thing he sees.

At work there’s always people that constantly wander around where he works, but they don’t need to. There’s nothing of interest in that area except for him.

He goes grocery shopping for himself and Hange, and that day is hell. He sees about twenty odd people there following him, holding their phones in ways that just aren’t normal, that always have the camera pointing him. He sees people walk past with their camera pointed at him and when he looks at the screen, the camera is open on it. He goes to an empty line at the checkout and about nine people rush into it before him, to make him stay there longer, to crowd him. People go out of their way to block him, people follow him with a few inches of space between them. People twice his height and size are purposefully chosen to block him because they think he’ll be too intimidated to do anything.

They nod and give each other hand signals and parents send their kids out to take photos and videos of him while they run past. Cars honk at him and people in restaurant windows watch him closely.

Once he starts to notice, he can’t stop. He tries to talk to Hange about it.

“I know it sounds crazy, or whatever,” Levi says. He’s pale and his hands shake. He’s not slept well. Last night someone was on the street, a dark silhouette, staring into his window.

“But everyone is just – they’re watching me.” He spits it out quickly, a jumble of words, and Hange barks a laugh before raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, you’re serious?” She says, and Levi glares at her.

“Yes I’m serious.”

“I didn’t think you were such a narcissist. I doubt everyone’s actually watching you, Levi,” she says, still all light-hearted, and Levi gets up with the shake of his head. He disappears into his bedroom, finds the leather book he hides underneath his pillow, and brings it back out. He holds it towards Hange and then opens it, lets the pages flip over. Each page is filled with places and times and descriptions of people and what they were doing.

_5 th of March, Walmart. 2:45 ish, looking through the clothes. A man, extremely tall/overweight walks out, blocks me with his cart. Phone is held backwards on the trolley so the camera looks at me._

_6 th of March, Abbey’s street, 8 ish. Man, balding, middle aged, comes out of coffee shop – he has nothing – and bumps into me._

_6 th of March, Rowing Lane, 8:10 ish. Car blocks my path, man walks into my back. Camera shutter sound from his phone._

And so it goes for a solid quarter of the book, and he’s only had it for just over a week. Hange looks serious now and he’s hopeful that she understands what’s going on but – she shakes her head.

“Levi,” she trails off, running a hand through her hair and pushing her stupid glasses back up her nose. “This is… This isn’t normal –“

“That’s what I’m saying, Hange!” Levi says, relief flooding him, but Hange’s expression just filled him with a too-familiar feeling of dread.

“No, not like that, Levi… This…” She sighs, flicks through more pages of information, and then sets it on the coffee table next to her messy plate of leftovers. It makes Levi’s already frayed nerves tick.

“This is just normal stuff people are doing… How have you slept lately?” She asked, and Levi was taken aback for a moment.

“What? That doesn’t matter-“

“You have been pretty tired and stressed lately,” she commented, and her voice was gentle. She was trying to convince him this hadn’t happened. She was in on it too.

No. She couldn’t be. He’d known her for years and they’d been close friends since, they’d live together for over two years. She couldn’t be in on this. 

“I’m not making this up,” he defended, reaching for the book again.

“Hange, I’d get if this was like, a week apart but – this shit is unreal. It’s been over a month since I’ve noticed it. And it’s the same people, I recognise them, all the time. This isn’t some sleep deprivation-induced paranoia,” he rambled, looking through the pages.

_13 th March, 11 ish, woody’s bar. Drink tasted off, poured it away. Man in the corner kept watching me. People at the bar blocked me off. Woman’s phone camera pointed at me._

_14 th March, 10ish, they’re in the mall._

“Even last night, there was someone looking into my window. Probably one of the people by the shopping centre – maybe one of the paid addicts, actually…”

“Levi,” Hange spoke up again. She was hesitant, her teeth toying with her bottom lip anxiously as she thought how best to word this.

“You yourself said once that you get pretty bad anxiety sometimes. Do you not think that this is a little crazy? That so many people would put so much time and effort into freaking you out a bit?”

Levi’s nails dug into his knees through the rips in his jeans. He wasn’t crazy.

“Like that, well, yes, it would sound crazy,” he said, “so obviously they aren’t just doing it to simply mess with me. Hange, it’s been weeks, and I know what this kind of stuff is like –“

“You’re not involved in that kind of stuff anymore,” Hange said abruptly, snapping through his sentence. “You’re not in with any of those gangs anymore, you live cities away from all of that. Life is normal, Levi. You don’t need to worry about that shit.”

It was like a slap in the face.

Back when he was a teenager, he would admit he got quite tied into with some quite horrific gangs. They practically ruled the streets where he used to live, it was almost impossible not to get involved. And he’d admit that it may have given him some problems he was still dealing with. Some trust issues, some anxiety, coping mechanisms that developed into OCD. It wasn’t great, but he’d been dealing better since he’d met Hange, honestly; the woman was relentless which, in his case, was good. She had never given up on him.

His cheeks flush warmly, the tips of his ears warm and rosy, and he clears his throat, looking at his hands and relaxing them on his thighs.

“Levi, I’m sorry-“

“No, no,” Levi shakes his head and slumps back into the sofa, “you’re right,” and if she wasn’t? He didn’t just waste his time noticing things like this for more than a month. “I just…” He rises to his feet, clearing his throat and awkwardly stepping around the coffee table and to the window. He needs air. His head spun and he felt hot. On the streets, someone on their phone glances around – right at him, stares right at him – and the wood of the windowsill splinters in his fingertips.

Hange’s footsteps were quiet and soft as she steps closer to him, but she didn’t touch him.

“Levi, I know you don’t like the idea of it, but maybe you could just try talking to someone? You were doing so well lately and I… I can’t help you more than I already have. And if it’s been this bad for over a month…”

They couldn’t continue this for much longer, right? It had been a month already. They couldn’t be this dedicated to getting under his skin. He didn’t have anything anyone would want. He closes his eyes and swallowed dryly.

Hange had been fighting for him to talk to a professional for the length of time they’d known each other. The idea made him feel sick. Trusting a complete stranger with all his vulnerabilities, trusting them to make him better. They could easily take advantage of him, make him even worse.

When he opens his eyes again he turns to Hange. She looks tired, the usual bubbly happiness gone from her eyes and to the rare, deep seriousness. He could trust her. It’d be cruel to make her take all of his burdens though. If they saw how close they were, would they start harassing her too?

“Alright,” he mutters, and looks at his feet. “Fine. I’ll try it, just once.”

Hange grins then, all happy and proud again.

He thinks he’ll regret it.

He isn’t going crazy. He doesn’t need support or someone to psychoanalyse him. He needs a fucking body guard at this rate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you found this interesting feel free to leave a comment! I love hearing feedback and it inspires me to write more!


	2. Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy this part!

It still takes over a week for them to get Levi seen by a therapist at the nearby hospital, and it would have taken longer if not for Hange’s incredible skill in ‘convincing’ people to see to them first. Levi still thinks that this is completely absurd; he doesn’t need this. Other people need it more than him. He’s not paranoid; he’s aware.

He keeps his diary up to date during that week and a bit and keeps it out of sight from Hange.

The day she drives him up to the hospital is a Saturday, during the early hours of the busy morning. They’d had breakfast (she had, his stomach flipped too dangerously to let him even think about eating) and they’d gotten ready and then headed out. Hange does try to keep the mood light hearted and positive, optimistically going on about how happy and proud of him she is and how well this might serve him, how much better he’ll feel in a month of this, as if he’ll take up that much of someone’s time.

He catches himself in the side mirror out of the window and it’s certainly not an attractive sight. He’s paler than usual and his eyes are framed by dark circles that so deep he could buy the same bags in a grocery shop, and his dull eyes are slightly bloodshot. Absentmindedly, his nails scratch the pale skin of his left forearm, turning them pink and irritated. Red crescent moons scar the back and the palm of his hand.

“And hey, maybe the person’s hot, maybe you could finally find that special person,” Hange says, smiling at him from the drivers seat.

“Watch the road rather than my sex life,” Levi mutters, hunching further into his own leather seat. A red car overtakes them and Levi looks suspiciously at the number plate and the silhouette in it. They’ve not given up for months, not even when he began to notice, and they wouldn’t stop even when it made Hange drag him to some therapist’s room.

He bets the therapist is some sadist who gets off on seeing mentally vulnerable people. He’s probably sectioned innocent people and turned their words against them for their own pleasure. And Levi’s not saying that he’s not mentally sound – he knows what’s going on, he has a right to be a little paranoid – but if Hange can question it, then an educated psychologist can surely twist his words and make him sound like some blubbering, delusional mess and he won’t be able to do anything.

This isn’t a good idea. They’ll probably record him on all the CCTV footage they have of him entering. They’re probably watching it right now, waiting.

Before he can demand Hange turn the car around right now, she chimes in way too enthusiastically; “we’re here!”

The building is purposefully built to look comforting but it’s nothing like the sort as he and Hange park her shitty car and make their way into reception. The place is probably crawling with germs.

“Therapy?” The receptionist repeats with a fake smile. He can’t see her hands, probably writing the time of his appearance in a log under the counter, and Levi lets Hange handle the transaction.

“Yup; we’re just wondering how to get to that area?” She asks, and the receptionist – Petra, according to her nametag – smiles wider, which he thought was impossible, and gives them some quick instructions to reach the mental health unit. She wishes him a good day, which he finds ironic considering the reason they’re here, and Hange follows him to the side.

“Are you good from here?” She asks, fiddling with her keys in her pocket.

Levi waves a hand nonchalantly. “Go get a McDonalds or something, I know where I’m going,” he replies, and the brunette smiles and rests a hand soothingly on his shoulder. His muscles underneath her fingers are tense.

“I’m proud of you. Just try it, okay? My treat, we’ll go to that teashop after.”

He feels like some pathetic infant, having to be bribed to do something with treats, but honestly a hot cup of tea sounds like heaven right now. All he wants is a moment to relax.

“Yeah yeah. I’ll text you when we’re done,” Levi says. His shoes squeak against the tiled floor.

Hange beams at him and pulls him against her chest in a forced hug before letting him go. She makes little tapping noises as she walks off, waving and smiling at him all the while until the automatic doors hiss open and she’s gone. His ribs tighten around his lungs and he resists the urge to look around, to spot which people in here are fakes, and he forces himself to stiffly walk up a staircase and down long, sterile corridors until he reaches the mental health unit.

The journal of evidence digs into his side as he clutches it close and when he walks into the waiting area, he freezes. Is he really doing this? What awaits him beyond the corridor? Is this the start of even more psychological manipulation until he’s too fucked to tell what’s real anymore?

“Excuse me, sir, can I help you?”

The boy behind the counter is young, a teenager probably getting some work experience or here on some part time job or something, and his big blue eyes are warm and welcoming and Levi wants to drown in them because they’re the first genuinely friendly new face he’s seen in months.

He clears his throat and steps over to the counter, cheeks slightly warm from embarrassment.

“Sorry. It’s my first time here, with, ah, Doctor Lyle?” He says, and the boy hums.

“What’s your name, sir?” He asks gently.

“Levi. Levi Ackerman.” The boy nods and Levi seeks out his nametag. ‘Armin’, it says, and it suits him.

“Yup, got you scheduled in here. Take a seat, he’ll call you through in just a moment. If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask.” Armin gives him a warm smile and Levi returns it tightly, before finding a seat away from the other teenager in here, focused on her phone as she waits to get called through, and the two parents here with their own young child.

The waiting room is painted a calming blue and has large windows by the sitting area that Levi preoccupies himself with staring out of them. There’s posters around the room advertising helplines and encouraging people to speak up, to reach out. It grates on his nerves.

A few minutes pass when he’s called out of his thoughts by a deep voice.

“Mr. Ackerman?” Someone calls, and when he looks up there’s a tall, tan and dark-haired man looking up from his clipboard. They make eye contact and the man smiles, showing teeth that would make dentists’ envious.

Levi hauls himself to his feet and wipes his sweaty, stinging palms on his jeans before walking over to the tall man.

“Hi there, I’m Doctor Lyle. Our room’s just down the hall,” he says, and Levi says nothing as he follows him down the corridor.

Their room is close to the back and around a corner, pleasantly secluded from everyone else, and the seat he’s guided into is soft and comfortable. There’s a large window to his left that looks out onto the gardens in the centre of the hospital. The clock ticks irritatingly loud.

“So, do you want to tell me why you’re booked here today?” The man asks, and he’s still politely smiling. It creeps him out.

Levi scoffs quietly. “I’m sure you already know,” he says, and something in his dark brown eyes glints. He nods softly.

“I do, but I’d like to talk to you rather than my notes,” he explains, and Levi presses his lips together

“My friend booked me in here. She thinks my anxiety’s getting worse, that I’m ‘paranoid’ or some sh-crap.”

A dark bushy brow raises questioningly.

“And why would she think that?” He asks.

Levi’s nails scrape the leather surface of his journal, and he hesitantly brings it out and holds it out until Doctor Lyle takes it. He doesn’t open it until Levi gestures that he can.

“Because I’ve noticed things. It’s not my anxiety; I don’t need to be here. That’s been the last month or so since I noticed everyone following me, recording me. I’m not paranoid that this is me making up shit.”

Doctor Lyle flicks through the pages slowly, eyes raking up and down each neatly-written line of evidence. His thumb and pointer finger rub his stubbly chin.

“This sure is a lot of information you’ve collected,” he murmurs, and Levi nods his head even though he’s not looking at him.

“Have you had bad anxiety before?” The brunette asks, and Levi huffs out a breath.

“It’s not anxiety,” he persists, but with an unrelenting gaze from the therapist, he sighs.

“Yes. I, ah… I used to be involved in some stupid gang stuff as a teenager, before I moved here. It’s… Kept me alert,” he chooses to say, shifting uncomfortably.

“I’m nothing if not honest, Levi, and I can see home some of this might be disconcerting, but a lot of this… It is just regular things. I see you have a regular schedule, and it seems the people you encounter just have a similar schedule.”

Levi’s eyes flick around the room. In the corner opposite him, there’s a small security camera with a red light that blinks tauntingly at him. They’re here. Levi resists the urge to rip the journal out of his hands.

He knew this was a bad idea. He’s walked right into their hands and given them the evidence to show he’s onto them. They’ll make the move they’ve been building up to any day now, and he’s some weak little fly in their spider web. Why are they all targeting him? He’s done nothing.

“Are you okay?”

Levi heaves a painful breath into his constricted lungs and his eyes snap to the doctor.

“What – what colour is your car?” He asks, and confusion flicks across the doctor’s face.

“Red, I guess, why? I think we should put this aside for this session –“

The chair scrapes across the wooden flood as Levi stands up and takes the journal, now closed and placed on the round table between them. His head spins and he feels like he might vomit. Of course this being a normal person that would see where he’s coming from would be too good to be true.

Of course they’re watching him, even here.

“Levi, you’re panicking, you need to sit down –“

“Leave me the fuck alone,” Levi hisses, and his hand roughly hits the door handle. “Just – stop, all of this.”

The doctor stands and steps closer, and Levi opens the door, almost falls out of the room.

“I’ll phone the police if I see you again, you – you fuck, stay away from me.”

Air wheezes through his closing throat and his chest burns, air stolen by the gut-wrenching fear blooming throughout him.

How many people are out to get him? They’ve seen he’s onto them now, that their cover is blown, how are they going to react? They can manipulate the CCTV footage and he’ll just disappear. Within two weeks, there’ll be no questions asked. Hange won’t stop asking, though, and maybe they’ll target her to keep her quiet. Maybe she’ll go missing, too. She has a family and friends, he can’t drag her into this but he already has, somehow.

The floor hits him hard and his journal skids a few feet away from him, but he can’t bear it to open his eyes and look for wherever it skidded off to. He’s too busy covering his mouth to muffle the horrendous sounds coming deep from his mouth, his lungs creaking and moaning for air that gets stolen just in front of his lips, so tauntingly close.

The ringing in his ears is broken by a voice, soft and concerned, reaching him as if he’s on the ocean floor.

“Sir? Sir, I need you to look at me, please. I know it’s hard, but copy me; deep breaths.”

Hand’s touch his wrists and Levi jerks away, rips open his eyes to stare at the man on his knees in front of him. There’s peering eyes around them, too, curious by the scene he’s caused. It’s them.

“I’ll,” he wheezes, a ghost of a breath from his dying lungs, “break your fuckin’ hands.”

The ones on his wrist disappear in replace for an apologetic smile. “Sorry.”

“Do you want me to call security, Doctor?”

“That won’t be necessary. Just step back, please. Everyone, go back to your room or the waiting room, please. We don’t need a crowd.”

The words from the blonde man is enough to make the invasive crowd disperse and suddenly it’s just the two of them, on the cold tiled floor with a journal and some pathetic wheezing coming from himself that his knuckles held between his teeth can’t stop or even muffle.

“Hey, it’s just us now. I won’t touch you again, but you need to focus on me. Can you hold my wrist?”

It’s an odd request, especially from a murderer, but Levi decides that he’ll be off the face of the earth within a few days so he might as well entertain the last few hours of his coherent consciousness. His shaking hand reaches out and finds the mans wrist, his shirt sleeve pulled back so he can find his bare skin easier. Under his fingertips beats like a strong, steady drum, and he holds onto it, wills his own erratic heart to match the mans.

“Good, good… That’s it. You with me?”

His chest still aches but his lungs greedily pull in fresh air, and he ignores the question until he feels good enough to respond, and the man doesn’t pressure him to hurry up.

“I – I,” Levi croaks. He looks around, sees the leather book a few feet away from him, and drops the wrist in favour of reaching for the book and pulling it to his side.

“Take your time. Do you think you could stand? My room’s currently free if you wanted to sit for a moment and I’ll get you some water.”

The offer is suspicious but Levi prefers that over the idea of trudging through a waiting room full of people who’d just seen him grovel on the dirty floor, and so he nods and takes the offered hand to help him to his feet.

The man who had helped him is tall – probably a foot taller than himself – and has soft, neat blonde hair and ocean blue eyes that are inviting and warm when he catches them. His voice is always so steady and calm and shares the security the doctor radiates.

His room is at the opposite end of Doctor Nyles, luckily, and has a different layout. The security camera faces the door rather than the seats.

“Take a seat, get comfy. I’ll open a window.”

He hears the click of the window as the man opens it and there’s a rush of gentle cool air that swarms into the room and cools his clammy skin. Levi focuses on the air on his hands and breathes in and out slowly. He hears a cupboard open and something settles on the table. Levi cracks his eyes open and there’s an unopened, untouched bottle of water in front of him.

Levi reaches out and takes it, twisting the bottle cap off with a snap. It’s cool as it slides down his dry throat pleasantly.

“Thanks,” Levi mutters, and he forces himself to look at the man.

He’s looking back at him in a way that he just knows is analysing him thoroughly, yet it’s soft and as if they were friends.

“How are you feeling now? Are you light-headed?” He asks. He crosses a long leg over the other.

He still feels hot and panicky and the journal weighs heavily on his lap. He’s let everyone know that he knows about them and he’s caused a scene. Any therapist could vouch that he’s mentally unsound and make him putty in their hands, including the one in front of him.

“I’m fine,” he says with the shake of his head and wave of his hand, but the blonde raises an eyebrow.

“I know you’re not my patient and I’ve no reason to ask, but I feel obligated to make sure that you’re alright. It’d make me rest easy, anyway. You gave me quite a scare out there,” he says, and Levi wants to scoff. He doesn’t care, he just wants him to melt in his palms.

“I’m sure I did,” Levi mutters, and he taps his pointer finger on the back of his hand, digs his nail in and drags it back up past his wrist.

“May I ask what happened? I hope no one working here gave you a hard time.”

“You don’t need to psychoanalyse me,” Levi spits, glaring at the blonde man.

“I’m not,” the man defends, “just making sure you’re alright. My name’s Erwin Smith, what about you?”

Levi settles slightly after the change in topics. “I’d think you’d know already. Levi Ackerman.”

He’s tired. God, he’s so tired. He’s spent so much energy picking up on everyone around him, of sleepless nights trying to figure out why he’s targeted like this. Now that the panic got a hold of him and had its time, all he really wants is to rest. To yell that this isn’t fair. He doesn’t deserve this. He wants someone to understand that he’s the victim of a huge gang stalking plot and they’re getting exactly what they want, making him look like he needs therapy.

“Why would I already know your name?” The man, Erwin, asks.

Levi sighs, exhausted. “Everyone already does,” he mutters bitterly.

“Well, I don’t think that’s true now. I didn’t,” Erwin says, and Levi scowls.

“Don’t fucking lie to me again,” Levi hisses, and his fingers pinch his nose.

“I don’t want to make you feel pressured, but it helps to talk honestly, and that’s all I’m doing as well. I don’t lie,” he promises, and it sounds so hopefully sincere that Levi wishes he could believe it.

“Considering what just happened, I’d argue otherwise,” he snorts, and Erwin shrugs.

“Maybe I can handle it in a way that the other person couldn’t,” he offers, and Levi resists the urge to storm back out. He looks out the window and slumps. In a week he’ll probably be missing anyway.

He drops the leather journal on the coffee table and gestures at it.

“I’m being followed,” he says, “but everyone else says it’s just anxiety. I know what it is,” he says. Erwin looks at the journal before taking it between his hands, and then he sets it back down.

“All of it’s in there. I can’t say it any better than what’s been written in there,” he says, and the blonde nods.

“I understand that, but I’d rather hear what you think of it now rather than when this was happening. Why would other people think that it’s just anxiety?” He asks, and Levi presses his lips together.

“Because I have it. And what’s going on isn’t noticeable. It’s subtle and looks normal. But I know that it’s more than that. I’ve done my research and it’s called gang stalking and it’s getting worse. Some people end up homeless, you know. It happens to a lot of people.”

Erwin nods, and Levi realises he’s rambled and spat out his paranoia. Erwin doesn’t look… he isn’t sure how to put it. He doesn’t look judging or sceptical. Levi stops scratching at his arm.

“Do you have a strict working schedule?” He asks, and Levi startles slightly.

“What?” He asks, and Erwin repeats it.

He glances down at his lap briefly. “I guess. It’s the same hours. I don’t understand what this has to do with anything, though.”

“How about this,” Erwin says. He slides the journal back to Levi. “Change your schedule up. See if you can do another shift at your work, go a different way to work. See if you still see the same people around you.”

Levi purses his lips. He didn’t have time to do that. He was too focused on documenting the evidence.

“Do you believe me?” He asks, way too hopefully.

Erwin’s hands clasped on his lap. “I believe what you know,” he says, and it’s good enough for Levi. His bones feel like jelly.

He drops his face into his hands, running them down and rubbing his weary eyes.

Erwin helps him sign back out and sign his name under Erwin’s rather than Doctor Lyle’s, and Armin says he hopes he has a good afternoon and Levi feels more worn about by the idea of someone believing him and someone being kind than he has by the stalking over the past month.

Erwin waits with him until Hange texts him to say she’s outside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked this part feel free to leave a comment below; I love hearing all your feedback!
> 
> You can reach me on Tumblr @ Killerrs-Queen.


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